but that was not it.
Hearing those rattling cages, I gather my recent work in my “From dust to Dust” series has created quite a stirring reaction from many of you, . Good!
I have been stirred up and the work is a bi-product….but the motivation behind the work may not be what you may think. I am passionate about the stunning reality of the transformations and troubles of the unsettled dust of the past several months because…
“She held out her arms and pulled me toward her…. “
In mid- December a woman arrived to be a guest in my home for the holidays. She is an unbelievable delight..always an encouragement. For one she has always been the one who said I could do anything. She was my first art patron. Everyone has a mother, even artists.
At the time of her recent arrival, she seemed more unsteady on her feet than at her last visit. As the month past, her ability to walk declined rapidly, until now her walker is her constant companion.
Her falls began daily as she would attempt to rise or sit or turn, until I stood guard spotting for her at each step. When she collapsed in my arms, I then understood I could not support her with my strength nor was I capable of being her main and only guard.
I saw time and strength slip through our fingers.
It is out of this context and the ensuing struggle that my new series “From Dust to Dust” took shape. As I wrapped my arms around her frail body and bathed her back while she clawed herself through the day in and out of her bed or chair, I saw time and strength slip through our fingers.
I ask why. I hear reasons, but they are not fitting into our Madison Avenue view of life. They are not tidy. My religious conviction prepared me, but only the reality of being with her gave me understanding.
At night, I tucked her into her covers, she held out her arms and pulled me toward her to gently kiss me with her quivering lips, holding me so tightly for ever so long … then whispering, “Thank you, Judy;… I love you.”
Yes from dust we came yet, most assuredly to dust we will return. While “From Dust” may declare the glory of our bodies, “Fallen Again,” returns us to the troubles of living in a world gone awry.
My mother had to move to a place where she could be assisted with every task and where staff were prepared to carry her.